Depression, Therapy, Chocolate, and an irrational attraction to Kay Burley

It’s Criminal What’s Gone On

Oh my. After all those weeks of slow steps forward, getting my life together, and moving on, a week of setbacks. All part of life’s rich tapestry, of course, but when so much happens in a condensed space of time, it takes it out of you in the mind and soul.

The first mishap is comparatively trivial. The bank I recently changed to took it upon themselves to reissue my debit card, which I hadn’t asked for, and promptly sent it to the wrong address.

As it happens, the branch nearest to my place of work is a 20 minute bus ride away, so when the time came to get paid, instead of living in the 21st century and going to a cashpoint, I was left waiting in the torrential rain waiting for a bus that never came, with a soggy passport as proof of identity, to claim the few shekels I earned.

Again, though, a minor irritation. As for work itself, although my attitude and work ethic continues to be as exemplary as I can be, it’s been very intense. In truth, I’ve struggled, and let the people around know that I am as well.

It’s not so much the job itself that I find difficult, it’s learning all about codes, systems, and procedures in the right order. I’m disappointed with myself that I haven’t learned as quickly as I think I could.

I will make a success of it, of that I’m certain, but it still grates with me that I’ve fallen behind others. On the face of things, though, it’s just another annoyance, perhaps fuelled by me expecting too much, too soon of myself.

So it’s wet, bedraggled, and insecure so far. That, to my surprise, I could handle when I arrived home of an evening. It’s when I was at home that the real testing thing happened.

Perhaps I needed to have heeded an earlier warning. A friend of mine close by had their tablet stolen from their home. Nothing else, just that. I, of course, empathised and sympathised, but fell into the trap of ignoring the danger of a local thief, and not thinking of the possibility it could happen to me.

Which, of course, it did. Upon my return one night I was greeted to clothes and linen strewn across the floors, and electronic devices, with their plugs, missing. What hurt most, however, was the items of sentimental value from times I was with my ex. To anyone else they were pretty worthless. To me they were priceless.

The upset came later. The first reaction was shock. Then came disbelief. I wondered if, in the morning, I was in a rush and threw things around. I couldn’t think back 10 minutes previously, let alone 10 hours. I searched. And searched. And searched again.

All my trinkets, the saved and used ticket stubs, as well as the electrical gadgets, inevitably, didn’t turn up after a half hour’s searching. When I finally accepted the truth, that I’d fallen victim to probably the same burglar who’d been active earlier in the week, I had that familiar black feeling ride over me.

I felt somehow fated to have a miserable existence however hard I tried to make my life a happy one. One negative emotion poured in after another, soon followed by negative thoughts. It was only a matter of time before thinking of suicide came to the fore. If this is what life is going to be like from now on, why bother?

I’ve improved the past few days since then but there’s still a heavy heart and a sense of sadness to me. After all the struggles I’ve had reorganising my life where I live, trying to make a fresh start after losing my true love and then my mind, it feels as if I’m banging my head against a brick wall. I feel like screaming.

Much as I like the location where I am, and even though I’ve fought and battled to get myself back into paid employment, I get the feeling that karma is playing it’s hand, telling me it’s time to move on, that it’s fated never to work out for me here.

So many negative emotions I’m fighting at the moment, which experience has taught me is the worst time to make any decisions. I will, of course, carry on at work, doing my damned best to make a success of it. A five lever lock to put on my front door is an absolute imperative.

Above all though, I’m not going to let that anonymous burglar get to either my friend or I any more than they have already. If karma is dealing me a bad hand, then sure as hell it will give that criminal their just desserts in some way, even if the due process of law can’t.

Not letting the bastard grind me down. That’s what it’s about at the moment.